


The Air That Kills

by asparagusmama



Series: The Dead of Winter pieces [1]
Category: Lewis - Fandom
Genre: Confusion, F/M, Guilt, Impotence, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-07
Updated: 2011-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asparagusmama/pseuds/asparagusmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In my Missing Scene from Blue Autumn Love Hathaway says to Lewis that nothing happened. What exactly does Hathaway consider 'nothing'? This contains serious spoilers for The Dead of Winter, so don't read if you don't want to know who the murderer is!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Air That Kills

**Author's Note:**

> Lewis and Hathaway belong to ITV.
> 
> Oxford is owned by the University Colleges, The Crown, The Church of England, Oxford City Council and Oxfordshire County Council, the later who should be lined up against a wall, or even better, all magically transported into a pain ridden disabled body left caring for an autistic child and see how they cope with their savage cuts to care, support, school and charity funding...
> 
> This one is not for my daughter, obviously. written in a notebook after days of my daughter not sleeping at all, hyperactive and stressed, myself exhausted and stressed and desperate for respite. The weird things that are in our sub consciousness... I wasn't going to post this, but another sleepless night (and I can't even blame my daughter this time, except maybe for screwing my body clock!)

James regretted the kiss as soon as he was sat on Scarlett’s sofa. He wasn’t sure what had prompted it? Alcohol? Bravado? Desperation to prove to himself that he was straight (when he knew he wasn’t)? Trying to prove to himself Augustus hadn’t put him off intimacy of life? He really wasn’t sure of his motives.

“James, darling,” Scarlett called from her kitchen. “Are you sure you want coffee? How about a nice, large scotch?”

In point of fact he hadn’t been sure of his motives, sure of what he wanted from life, sure of what he was doing or what he was feeling since he’d got out of his car at Crevecoeur. Or since court. Or since Zilinksy’s arrest. Well, not since he’d found that poor girl. Not that one could compare Zilinksy to Mortmaigne, really. Objectively.

He realised he had supposed to be answering something. “What?”

“Coffee, James? Or whisky?”

“Um. Both. Please.”

James got up and wandered around the room, looking at some serious modern art on the walls as Scarlett returned with a tray containing a coffee pot, milk jug, cups and two scotches. She sat down and patted the sofa. He sat down as far from her as possible without actually sitting on the sofa arm. She passed him his drink and poured the coffee. James sniffed his drink, suspiciously. Scarlett noticed.

“Really darling, do you think I would drug you! I have plenty of offers, without resorting to that!”

“It’s been known,” he found himself replying lightly, as if a joke. He downed the scotch. Scarlett edged towards him. He flinched.

“James!”

“What?”

“Are you okay with this?”

“With coffee?” he asked innocently, before Scarlett leaned forward and kissed him. This time he didn’t kiss back.

“With that?” she asked, before kissing him again. “Really darling, am I so repulsive?”

“No. Oh no. It’s me, I’m...”

“When you said you didn’t date, do anything, you really, truly meant it didn’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Time for a change, then, don’t you think James darling?”

No, he thought. Yes. Not with you. Drunk and thinking of someone else entirely he kissed back, lying back, lifting his legs up as Scarlett lay on top of him.

“Shall we go somewhere more comfortable darling?” She stood up and took his hand, leading him to her bedroom. James had grown accustomed to doing what Lady Scarlett told him long before his fifth birthday, long before her father had groomed him into a different kind of obedience to the Mortmaignes. And besides, maybe this was it; he could prove to himself he was normal after all.

Scarlett was a woman who was used to getting her own way, and if James’ completely passive non-resistance rather than any responsive passion or response of any kind surprised her, she didn’t at first comment. Rather, she enjoyed the feeling of being in control. If James had little or no experience, she had plenty for both of them, with women as well as men.

However, after a while, when she had half undressed James, his jacket and tie gone, his shirt undone and his trousers and boxers pushed down she was forced to realise just how unresponsive his was. She sat up and stared appraisingly at him. James pulled himself half up too, pulling his shirt around him, struggling with his underwear and trousers.

“Darling, am I so repulsive and scary? You don’t need to be afraid, we’re not children darling.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What? What is it? I know you said you’d been at a seminary, but surely since you’ve left?” She looked at his face. “No? No-one?” She reached out and caressed his face. He shivered and closed his eyes. She kissed him again; pleased he was at least kissing back. “I’ll look after you James,” she whispered. “If you want me to.”

James managed to look both startled and terrified, yet he nodded, almost imperceptivity. He didn’t resist as she undressed him and then herself. They got into bed and lay side by side.

“Are you gay, darling?” she asked suddenly.

“It’s a sin,” he replied.

“That doesn’t answer the question. So is sex outside marriage, but that’s never stopped me.”

“But, that’s you. For me...”

“So you’ve not been with anyone, man or woman?”

James shook his head and looked away. Scarlett cupped his chin in her hand and kissed him again. “What would you like, darling? Theoretically, if it wasn’t a sin? We can do whatever you like. I can take control, if you want. I even have a drawer of all sorts of toys, darling.” She rolled on top of him. “I can even fuck you, if you want it up the arse.” She moved her hand around and began to push one finger into him, smiling down at him.

Scarlett watched his face, horror, self-disgust and hatred and something else, something that made him begin to shake uncontrollable. She sat up, putting a hand to her mouth.

“Oh my God James! You’re one of Daddy’s...” She couldn’t finish her sentence.

“No I’m not,” he snapped, sitting up and hugging his knees, hiding tears. “I mean, yes, he did... How do you know?” he said quietly.

“It doesn’t matter,” she put a hand to his back. It hovered, uncertainly, for a few moments before she stroked his back and then pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry James.”

“It’s okay,” he said numbly. “It’s not your fault.”

“Is that why you haven’t ever...?”

“It’s a sin,” James repeated, as if explaining to an infant.

“No it isn’t.”

James’ head snapped up. “I have a theology degree from Cambridge and spent 18 months at a seminary. It is a sin. I can get you every chapter and verse and...”

“In point of fact James, you can’t. I don’t have a Bible here. I make a point of not reading the Bible, frankly. But ancient tribal rules for nomadic Jews hardly apply to the twenty first century. Hasn’t science shown it’s not a choice but gay people are made, genetics and hormones in the womb or something.”

James stared at her. “News to me.”

“But you’re a theologian, not a scientist, yes darling? If you’re gay by nature, then God made you gay. Why would He do that and then tell you He didn’t want you?”

James shrugged. “A test?”

“One everyone is bound to fail. James, darling, you must wank? You must have fantasies? You must fancy men sometimes? Maybe even fall in love?”

James looked down.

“Of course you do,” she replied for him. “Is all that a sin then?”

“Yes,” James mumbled into his knees.

“Did you think I could make you straight?”

“No, not really.”

“We can still do whatever you want darling. I meant it, about the sex toys. I’ve had girlfriends as well as boyfriends, and we’ve had some serious fun...”

“Stop it!” James almost shouted. “Scarlett! You were always so pushy!”

Scarlett threw herself at him, lying on top of him and kissing him again. This time he pushed her away. “I’m going home.”

“Stay. Please, James. Stay. I don’t want to be alone tonight.” The loneliness caught in her throat, affecting James.

“Maybe...”

“We can just talk. Please.”

He turned to stare at her, eyes suddenly full of compassion. “Don’t do it, Scarlett. Don’t marry him. If you don’t love him...”

Scarlett laughed lightly. “My people do it all the time, marry for fortune and status. I was born to it.”

“But...”

“Can you speak of love, anyway? You’re a virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin, Scarlett,” he said, staring right at her.

“Did my father...? Oh God, what did my father...?”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it, alright? I try to not remember it, and if my boss hadn’t sent me to Crevecoeur I wouldn’t be thinking of it and...”

“What’s your boss like?”

Scarlett was still laying half on top of him, his face below hers. She saw the slight flush creep over his neck and face, saw the pupils dilate, merely at the thought of his boss.

“Inspector Robbie Lewis? He’s the best.”

“How is the best? What’s he like James?”

“He’s fair. Just. Kind. Tolerant. Intelligent. Thoughtful. Brave. He has the most amazingly brilliant blue eyes, even though he’s dark, very dark hair, even if it’s going grey a bit, but that just makes him more distinguished. He’s lonely, so very lonely. He needs looking after. He... he smells amazing. He’s strong, powerful, he’s so very male without being arrogant or...” James broke off, as if he’d just begun to listen to himself. He smiled an embarrassed little smile. “He’s lovely.” Then he said it, out loud, “I love him. I’m in love with him. There, I’ve answered your questions, haven’t I? I’m in love with my boss, it’s him I fancy, him I fantasise about, him I...” James broke off, too embarrassed.

Scarlett, as a member of the aristocracy, had had her embarrassment gene long bred out of her, so continued, “Thoughts of him you wank to. And what thoughts are they, darling?”

James laughed nervously and admitted, “I want him inside me so much it hurts.”

“Despite or because of what my father did to you?”

“Scarlett!”

“Sorry, darling, but they way you’re acting makes me think you think Daddy made you gay.”

“Your father...?" James began. He fell silent for a moment, thoughtful, and then he began awkwardly, “I don’t really know. He did what he did, but I don’t really think... that is to say, sometimes I do, but I’ve only ever looked at men, ever since I was a teenager, and hated myself for it, but that was my religion not your father’s doing. I think.”

“So, what am I to do with you, James? Because, here you are, blond and beautiful and in my bed, something I’ve been waiting twenty years for, and you’re gay and in love with your boss. Does he know?”

“Of course he doesn’t!”

“Why?”

“He’s straight.”

“Things are not always so straight forward, James, if you pardon the pun. Take me. Just because you only fancy men it doesn’t mean everyone is so fixed darling.”

James yawned and rewound Scarlett’s conversation. “What do you mean, waiting twenty years? You were only thirteen when I moved.”

“Loved you though. You were my first love, James. Didn’t you know?”

“I thought you liked bossing me about.”

“Must have been why I loved you,” she smiled and leant forward to kiss him again. “Nothing has to be so fixed, darling.”

James began to tremble and found himself kissing her back, lying back and letting her roll back on top of him, parting his legs and lifted his knees, putting his hands in her hair.

Scarlett broke of the kiss to smile. “Not so fixed, darling. Relax. Just let me take charge.” She began to kiss his neck, moving down all the while, stopping to bite and suck his collar bone, moving on to suck a nipple while her hand moved down, but she was still unable to get him hard.

James sat up, pushing her off him and leapt out of bed. “No! This is wrong!”

“Wrong? Why is it wrong?”

James was hastily pulling on his clothes, which were scattered about the bed.

“Because sex outside marriage is wrong. Because you’re getting engaged tomorrow. Because... because I’m gay and if I can’t be with Robbie Lewis I don’t want to be with anyone,” he finished, surprising himself, having meant to say being gay was a sin and he intended to remain celibate.

He looked disgusted with himself, if he hated himself, Scarlett thought. “James!” she cried, distressed for him. There were now tears in his eyes. Scarlett got out of bed and grabbed her robe, and pulled it on. She wanted to hold him again, but realised this was the wrong move. “Darling, it’s the early hours of the morning, it’s minus three with frost on the ground. Stay the night, James, please.” She opened her walk in wardrobe and pulled a quilt, pillow and sleeping bag from the top shelf. “You sleep here, I’ll sleep on the settee.”

“Are you sure, shouldn’t I...?”

“You’ve made me feel a cad, James, allow me to be a gentleman to make up for it,” she smiled ironically at him.

“Alright,” he said, and climbed into bed in his boxers and shirt, curling up in a foetal ball.

Scarlett left him but returned with hot milk with a generous shot of whisky. He was staring into space blankly, crying silently. He didn't acknowledge her. She placed the milk on the bedside table, kissed the top of his head and left.

*

Five hours later the phone awoke Lady Scarlett Mortmaigne. It was Paul Hopkiss.

“Paul,” she hissed and got up and peeped into the bedroom. James Hathaway was sound asleep, snoring slightly. She returned to the sofa and snuggled down into the sleeping bag.

“Sorry about that darling.”

“I thought you’d better know my lady, his lordship told your intended and his parents you were having some expensive spa beauty treatment.”

“Thank you. I’ll try to remember the cover story.”

“How did it go?”

“Not according to plan, but he’s certainly befuddled and confused. Very eager and anxious to get the case ended and away from us.”

“Good.”

“Paul?”

“Yes?”

“Did you know James was one of Daddy’s...?”

“Special ones. Oh yes. James was very special.”

“That summer, his last summer, when I kissed him goodbye, I told him it was my first kiss. He laughed and said I wasn’t his, did he mean...?”

“No. He meant me. Your father doesn’t go in for kissing.”

“Paul!”

“I kissed him in his bedroom, when he was packing up his life. His Dad made him get rid of most of his toys and books. He looked so unhappy and...”

“Sweet?”

“Sweet. Yes. Is he still?”

“Sweet virgin? Yes. Still.”

“You were supposed to...”

“Well, maybe you should have done so Paul, because obviously you would have got further.”

“Is he going to tell his boss?”

“About him? About Briony? No, I doubt it. He just wants away from us.”

“Invite him to your engagement party. Make sure he goes.”

“If you think that’s best.”

“I do, my lady, I do.”

*

Scarlett woke James at eight o’clock with a tray of coffee and toast.

“What’s this? Breakfast in bed? Do I really deserve this I ask myself?”

“Of course you do darling. Are you okay now?”

“Define okay?”

“Don’t lose touch James.”

“What?”

“Well, as you said at dinner, you’re certain it was Graham who killed Black, so your case is over, no need to come back to Crevecoeur.”

“Did I? I shouldn’t really have talked about it.”

“Just don’t lose touch James, please. We could be friends. We could even try again, sometime. I could help you get over what Daddy did, help you become straight, if that is what you want? Or help you in a campaign to seduce your boss, m’mm?”

“Well, I don’t know...”

“At least come to my engagement do, as my guest. That can’t hurt, can it?"

“S’pose not.”

“Please?”

James smiled. “Alright. Okay. I’ll come.”

“Thank you darling."


End file.
